


keep burning me up (with all of your love)

by mogigraphia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mentions of double penetration, Multi, Oral Sex, penatrative sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogigraphia/pseuds/mogigraphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes out for his birthday, and goes home with Niall and Barbara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep burning me up (with all of your love)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you thank you thank you to everyone who held my hand and patted me consolingly while i whined about this fic for the better part of four freaking months. this was originally supposed to be done the day after harry's birthday, which is a little embarrassing. special thanks to [clara](http://www.buttstogether.tumblr.com) and [kelsey](http://www.siempreniall.tumblr.com), thank you guys for babying me.

"Ready to move on?" Lou's yelling at him but Harry can barely hear it, the sound of the all encompassing bass beat somehow solid between her mouth and his ear. They're steadily making their way through a laundry list of clubs; his head is pleasantly swimmy and there's still all night left. It would please him, but it looks like it's just going to be the two of them, Sam and a few others; Nick had been with them earlier at dinner, but he hadn't felt well and decided to go back to his flat. Harry had offered to go with and make sure he got to bed alright, but Nick had told him not to be an idiot. 

 

"Yeah, guess so," Harry leans in and yells back to her. It was pointless to wait any longer, Louis wasn't going to make it back in time from visiting his gran, he and Zayn had already made plans to meet up tomorrow, and Liam hadn't really wanted to go out at all lately and bowed out, with the promise of going with when London Grammar plays at the Troxy next Tuesday. Niall had actually promised that he was going to be coming, even though Harry had told him he wouldn't mind if he sat tonight out, with his knee still recovering. 

 

Harry's trying not to be irritated; he told Niall specifically not to worry about it, but Niall had  _promised_  him. 

 

"Do you want to get a cab, or can we walk?"

 

"Better get a cab, it's almost halfway across town," Lou shouts, and Harry's not looking forward to a stop and go cab ride, thinking that his stomach might get queasy, when a hand lands on his lower back, warm and familiar. 

 

"Happy fuckin' birthday, you big sulker!" Niall shouts at the back of his head, and then comes around the side of him, grinning from ear to ear even as he hobbles, though not terribly so. "Christ, your bottom lip's sticking out so far you'll get more drunken offers for going down than Liam when Funky Buddha's full!"

 

Harry can't help it; he crows out a burst of happy laughter, clutching a little when Niall yanks him in for a tight hug. His brain's bright and fuzzy, and he stumbles slightly when he leans back again, jolting the half empty glasses when he bumps into the table. Oops, maybe he's drank more than he thought he did. 

 

"How much have you had, your mouth smells like you gargled triple sec," Niall laughs. 

 

"Not a fantastic way to combat gingivitis," says another voice, and Barbara slides into Harry's line of vision, bumping shoulders with Niall and grinning almost as widely as he is. 

 

"Barbara!" Harry says, and he hopes it's less surprise and more happiness as he steps forward to hug her too, unsure of how hard to squeeze or how close he should hold her. "Great to see you." Which isn't exactly a lie. It hadn't even been a thought in his head to wonder if Niall would come alone. He hadn't even known Barbara was in town.

 

"Same to you, sweetcheeks," she says, giving a petting pat to the side of his face as her nose wrinkles up cutely with a lopsided smile. Harry can't even find it in him to mildly dislike her. "Blondie is our lovely designated driver tonight since he's still on medication for his old man knee, and you don't nearly look drunk enough for it to be your birthday." And Harry can't disagree with her.

 

An unidentified amount of shots and drinks later, Harry can't stop giggling, and every time he gets close to tapering off, Barbara pounds her hand on the table and starts him up again. 

 

"Come on waiter boy, I think Harry and I haven't had jaeger bombs yet, go and fetch us two, or better yet four!" She demands, patting her hands together and snorting as she tries to look imposing. Niall rolls his eyes even as he grins at her, and she kicks off one of her pumps, leaning back in her chair as she trails her toes up the inside of Niall's uninjured knee. "I'll make it worth your while." 

 

"Don't have to promise things like that," Niall says, somehow looking sheepish even with his mild grin and a perked up eyebrow, and Harry suddenly remembers that all Niall's had to drink tonight has been an orange juice. He thinks about Barbara leaning into him later after she's kicked off her shoes, pushing him up against his front door to kiss him. Thinks about her shoving Niall down to sit on the couch as she pushes her panties down off of her hips and steps out of them, rucks up the hem of her skirt as she steps up to straddle his lap. 

 

"Hey, Debbie Downer, come and dance with me!" 

 

Harry startles, looking up to see Barbara tugging him up out of his chair, Niall nowhere to be seen. 

 

"Come on, come and dance with me!" She insists, her accent just the slightest bit heavier now, and Harry follows after her, winding their way through bodies to the delightfully retro lit up dance floor. He waggles dorkily at first and stumbles, shaking his hips and pulling the 'I'm not entirely sure how to legitimately dance' face, but she's not having any of it. Barbara grabs the belt loops on his jeans and pulls him in, and in her heels their eyes are almost even. 

 

"Too far away," she says with an exaggerated pout that turns into a smile before more than a few seconds can pass. She puts a hand on his shoulder, her fingernails scritch-scratching at his neck where the collar of his shirt tugged aside. Harry swallows. 

  
Barbara keeps one hand on his hip, pushing his knees further open so she can crowd close, her skirt riding up now as she puts a leg between his. The lights underneath the clear floor illuminate her waist through the gauzy top, and Harry puts his hand on her side, where her waist swells back up into her ribs. He feels her take a sharp breath, and Harry's eyes flick up to her face, take in how she's biting her lip through her smile. 

 

It seems like a good idea to reach up to where her hand is on his shoulder and move it to the back of his neck, to put a hand on the dip of her spine and pull her close enough that her chest just touches his, her pelvis pressing against his thigh and Harry does. He can feel spine tingling heat radiating out against him, almost hot even through his jeans, and something growls down deep in Harry's gut. They move together, and Harry groans under his breath as he feels her warmth rubbing against him.

 

"I told him you'd be game for this," Barbara murmurs, her breath sped just a little, and that is enough to send Harry's mind skittering to a halt, because  _he_  means  _Niall_ , and this is the opposite of alright, and Harry's pulling away with a panicked expression for a moment before Barbara's hold on him keeps him from going far. "Wait, wait," she says, turning around so her back presses against his chest, the curves of their bodies nestling against each other.

 

"Look, the right end of the bar." Barbara nods toward it as she takes his hands and puts them on her hips, and Harry can see Niall where she's indicated, sitting on a stool watching the both of them, one hand on the bar holding another glass of orange juice. "His jacket is in his lap," she says, her words slow and honeyed as she uncurls his fingers, slide them so that his index fingers and thumbs almost touch, and he can feel the band of her panties under his palms. "And his hand is underneath it." Barbara arches her back so that her ass presses into him, and Harry's breathing stutters while he watches Niall bite his bottom lip, the arm connected to the hand under his jacket tightening visibly against his side. 

 

" _Oh_." The gutteral noise wells up out of Harry, a triple punch right under his navel hard enough to make his toes curl in his boots when he takes in what she means, his hands tightening so that bits of her skirt catch between his knuckles. "Does he...want to watch? Or-"

 

"I think he'd like to do quite a bit more than watch," Barbara says casually, leaning her head back into his shoulder and reaching an arm up over her head, playing with his hair. Harry can't see, but he's imagining her smirking as she crooks a finger at Niall. Niall's up on his feet as quickly as his knee will let him. 

 

"You two look like you're getting into all kinds of trouble," he says when he reaches them, approaching and reaching for Barbara's waist like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch either. 

 

"I think you told me in Cannes your middle name was trouble, and please, put your hands on me before I die," she says, rubbing her temple against side of Harry's face, and Niall's hands span her ribs, fingers spreading out so that if his palms moved up a half inch his thumbs would brush the bottom curves of her breasts.

 

Harry feels like he should say something, but everything that wants to come out of his mouth sounds awful in his head.  _'Are we really going to do this?' 'Have you been talking about this for a while?' 'Have you been talking about me?'_  Instead he rubs his fingertips back and forth as Barbara rocks back into him, and Harry feels one of Niall's feet tangling between his now. He really hopes he won't fall over, because he's still incredibly wobbly and three sets of legs is already three too many, just when he's  _sober._  


He feels Niall's hand curl tight into the fabric of his shirt, and Harry turns his head to see Niall and Barbara kiss. He's close enough to see eyelashes and freckles; the music's too loud, but Harry can imagine the little noise their mouths make when they separate and press together again. He clutches Barbara closer, and his body would wobble if he wasn't already holding onto her, heat swooping up through his spine. 

 

Somehow even from the other side of him, Niall's setting the pace, crowding up to Barbara and running his hands down to her hips, palms slightly coarse and callused as they catch over the back of Harry's, rocking against them both in a way that makes Harry's jaw tight with desire for later. Even after he breaks the kiss he's planting his mouth all over, lipping at the corner of her slightly open lips in a way that reminds Harry of an enthusiastic puppy. It shouldn't be getting Harry hard. 

 

Finally, Niall leans back from her and when he opens his eyes he's looking at Harry, and he smiles all lidded eyes and white teeth shining in the blinking lights, and Harry wants things he can't have in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Harry reaches up and takes the back of Niall's neck, leans over so his lips are doing a little more than just brushing Niall's ear. 

 

"Ready to make this a crowd?" Harry tries, and immediately winces because Barbara throws her head back and laughs, her body shaking with it even as she grinds back against him. " _What?_ "

 

"You sound like you're reading lines out of a bad porn film," Niall says, laughing between his words, but his expression is so fond that Harry can't be angry about being laughed at by both of them. "Like you've written lines from something you saw on pay per view after midnight in your hotel room on the back of your hand." He laughs again, and Harry knows this time it's because he's making a consternated face, looks about two seconds away from stomping his foot.

 

"I want to kiss you!" Harry cries out into the side of Niall's head, shaking Niall a little with the hand on his neck for emphasis, in case wires have gotten crossed somewhere. 

 

"So kiss me, Styles," he says, and Harry rolls his eyes and gives him a nip on the jaw for being cheeky, feels stubble against his tongue and goes hot all over again, feels a little dizzy with it. He knocks the sides of their face together, noses at Niall's sideburn, but he's not fool enough to kiss him here, where every body in the room is sure to have an iphone or the equivalent on their person.

 

"As weirdly sexual as I'm finding this," Barbara says, extricating herself from between the two of them, "I think it's time to make our exit." Looking between her, grinning at both of them as she drags her hair out of her face and steps backwards in her pumps, looking at Niall, who's hand is locked in his shirt for dear life, grinning back. Suddenly, a cab ride doesn't sound so terrible.

 

*

 

Niall locks the door behind them, and Harry's up against the back of him immediately because the drive to Niall's place felt like ages. He feels Niall freeze and it makes Harry start to stumble back, because even after all of the overt suggestion back on the dance floor, he's ready to assume the humiliation that he's interpreted something wrong. But Niall just turns around, gets his hands in his shirt and kisses him a good one. 

 

His lips are soft and dry, though they don't stay that way for long because Niall's tonguing at his bottom lip, arching his body up so that Harry can feel his dick hardening in his jeans. It makes Harry's breath catch, his body lighting up like a neon sign now that things so much more visceral and less abstract. He moans, a little helplessly as Niall swipes his tongue along his, reaching down and fumbling his hands at Niall's fly. It takes him a hot second to get it undone, because Niall's fingers and rubbing against the bare skin of his stomach, questing and curious as his thumbs rub over Harry's nipples, soft and then harder, pinching at them sharply, in an abrupt way that has Harry clenching all over, groaning low as he simultaneously pulls away and pushes closer. 

 

"Shit," Niall's voice is hoarse when their lips break apart, and Harry hears his head thump against the door when he bites where Niall's neck becomes his shoulder, the fuzziness of his brain makes him imagine for a moment that he can taste his freckles. He sinks his teeth in harder when Niall tugs at his nipples again, involuntary noises skittering out of both of them as they shove their hips back and forth. It's like their banter has somehow evolved to the most physical form possible. Harry kicks Niall's feet apart and shoves a thigh up against Niall's crotch, a victory noise lost in wet skin as he manages to get Niall's zip down. He's down on his knees fast enough that his knees protest the hard wood floor, but he's finding it hard to care with his nose pressed up against the curve of Niall's dick through his pants, his lips bit by the open zip of his jeans. 

 

It feels like the shiver that rolls down through Niall shudders it's way into Harry when he noses at Niall, the heat of him through the fabric compounding Harry's favorite body smell; he can't quite define it but it always makes his mouth water. He's leaning his head up and licking him through the fabric, reaching his hands up and tucking his fingers under the waistband of Niall's pants to the first knuckle while Niall makes a wordless noise that almost sounds like a curse when a soft object bops him in the back of the head.

 

"I swear to Niall's stupid slippers, if one of you comes before I get dick, I'm going to be incredibly irritated."

 

Harry turns around, and spots Barbara on the couch, flushed and unimpressed. Her dress is hiked up to the tops of her thighs, her hand tucked into her panties. He can see her fingers glistening where they're not covered by damp silky fabric, and the noise Harry's mind makes is closer to a full blooded roar. Harry turns around all the way, preparing to stand up when she lifts the match to the slipper she's already thrown at him. "I think I'd like it better if you crawled over here to apologize." Her lips are pursed thoughtfully, like her fingers aren't making a slightly muffled wet sound between her legs.

 

"Oh, Jesus fuck," Niall groans, and Harry doesn't have to turn around to know that he's got a hand taking the place Harry's mouth used to be. 

 

Biting at the inside of his bottom lip, Harry crawls over to the couch on his hands and knees, his eyes darting up to her face as he plants his lips just above her right knee.

 

"Kiss your mum like that?" Barbara teases, nudging Harry in the head with her thigh. He scrunches his face up at her and kisses her again, and again. They get progressively messier and more open mouthed as he travels inward, and he shivers pleasantly at the heat of her skin. He reaches the meatiest part of her thigh and nips there gently, just enough to hear her little grunting noise, her hips jerking. The metallic tang of perfume rolls over his taste buds, and Harry thinks of her dabbing it on while she sits in front of her mirror and fixes her face, frowning while she wings her eyeliner just right.

 

She reaches down and brushes his hair out of his eyes, tugs the bandanna off and plays with it absentmindedly while Harry's kiss lands half on her skin and half on the damp crotch of her panties. 

 

"Maybe we can use this later, it's cute, Alexander McQueen, hm?" Harry gasps a little at the thought of finding a use for it, plus Niall's hands are on his hips, fiddling with his pockets and reaching for his zip. He can feel Niall's pelvis pressed against him, his cock feels thick and hot where it's pressing against the fabric spilling from the vee of his jeans. It makes Harry think of voluptuous breasts spilling out of a corset, and he giggles into the crease of Barbara's thigh. 

 

"Christ, this, this elephant trunk in your drawers," Niall mutter-breathes into Harry's right shoulder as he gets a hand into Harry's briefs, squeezing it around his cock. Barbara lifts her arm up in front of her face and trumpets a tipsy bugle as she flaps her forearm, and he feels Niall giggle into the space between his shoulder blades, can't help but giggle again himself, breathless with the knowledge that this is really happening. Harry giggles until he feels Barbara's fingers threading through his hair and giving a meaningful press downwards. 

 

"Impatient," he murmurs against her, and she shivers even while she grunts and wrinkles her nose at him, pressing down on him again.

 

"Bet your tiny bum I am," she retorts, arching her hips up into his face, and Harry opens up his mouth for it, dragging the flat of his tongue up from the center of her over her panties, earning a jagged noise and a harsher press of her hips against him. Harry fumbles up, dragging her panties down off of her hips finally, looking up to watch her snort at the noise they make against the wood floor upon landing. He keeps watching when he puts his mouth back on her again, relishing her hiccuping gasp of relief as he mouths at the hot wet folds of her, licking them apart delicately. 

 

Harry gets his hands on the undersides of her thighs, knobbly thumbs digging in as he lifts them up, humming when he feels the muscle under the skin flex under his palms. He loves this, really; loves the taste, the way it rolls a little bitterly against his taste buds, the musk when he presses his whole mouth against her. Barbara groans, giving short little tugs when he drags his tongue up in slow laps, little tight hitches of breath leaking out when he circles around her clit without flicking against the surface of it and moving downward. She gets louder and progressively deeper in pitch when Harry starts to fuck her with his tongue, shallow presses of his tongue inside, groaning himself and dizzy and taking a breath every few times he pulls back. 

 

"Fuck, has anyone ever called your nose a clit tickler?" Barbara wheezes out after a long moment, her thighs starting to tremble slightly, the tendons of her neck standing out when she throws her head back.

 

"Think it's a new one," Niall answers from behind him, his sternum lining up with Harry's spine, hand still fondling idly at Harry's cock. It's almost at random, squeezing and stroking slowly, just touching to touch. "But I've already decided to adopt it. Tempted to tweet it later." 

 

"Definitely think you'll get a talking to about that," Barbara giggles, and the end of it turns into a gasp and a long tight groan when Harry flicks his tongue against her clit as fast as he can. She's silent as she comes, throbbing against his tongue, breath caught inside of her while she rocks up against his face again and again. Harry licks her through it, lapping slowly until she makes a noise in her throat and pushes at his forehead.

 

"Too much," Barbara says, her voice more accented than he's ever heard it, her breasts heaving as she catches her breath, the tops of them up to her collarbones are shining a little with perspiration. They are very nice breasts, Harry had forgotten that he was allowed to look, for the moment. Niall's not giving him much of a chance to, tugging him up by his shoulders, dragging his shoulders around to kiss him clumsily in his haste, licking at his tongue and sucking hard on his bottom lip, and Harry realizes he wants a taste of Barbara, and clutches hard at Niall when he sucks hard on his bottom lip, leans down and kisses her slick from his chin.

 

"Fuck,  _shit_ ," Niall says sustinctly when he pulls back, swallowing hard and then tugging at Harry again, a hand reaching down and tugging on Barbara'a ankle. "C'mon, c'mon c'mon," he says, trying to rise up and his face tightening into a slight grimace.

 

"Careful with your old man knee," Harry huffs, pushing himself up and tugging Niall to standing with a grip up under his armpit, Barbara with her hands on Niall's waist like a guide. Niall makes a face at the help, but Harry would rather have him annoyed than aggravating his injury. "Hey, hey, simmer down, be chill," Harry tells him in his best American accent, and Niall's face wrinkles up when he laughs like he can't help himself.

 

"Yeah man, just be loose, let the wind take you," Barbara tosses out, sounding like she just came off of a boardwalk somewhere in California as she stands up and tugs at her dress, which falls back down to the tops of her thighs. Harry thinks of her being out of a dance floor somewhere, dancing just like that because it's impossible to tell she's without her panties now, and he licks his lips involuntarily.

 

They wind up on Niall's bed, finally with a new frame replacing the one with broken slats (completely nonsexually, which Harry and Barbara both find hard to believe), with Niall's back to the headboard and Barbara sitting in his lap. She's got her hands on either side of his face, tilting his head so she can kiss him just how she likes. Harry can hear the sounds of their lips together again, watching from Niall's right, where he's half sprawled, half tucked up to both of them. 

 

He's nosing at Niall's neck, enjoying all the body heat while he lazily tweaks at Niall's nipples to hear the gasps he makes into Barbara's mouth, when she pulls back, pecking at his bottom lip a few times. 

 

"Hm, what would you like Harry?" She asks, her fingers tangling with his for a second as she traces faint freckles down Niall's chest. "It's your birthday after all. We've talked about so many different combinations, it doesn't matter to me." Harry tries not to look too blown over that they've not only thought extensively about being with him, but also different scenarios of being with him, and hopes he looks thoughtful instead of just unbearably turned on.

 

"Uh, I think I'd like to be fucked," he says in a measured voice slow like honey, and immediately Niall grins and Barbara pouts. 

 

"I win!" Niall crows, and Barbara rolls her eyes as she crawls over Harry to reach the side table on the right side of the bed, rummaging through the myriad contents; Harry can see loose batteries, a remote, a Frisbee and possibly a hammer. 

 

"Only because my harness isn't here, I should have brought it anyway," she groans, and Harry only has a split second to think about what she means before Niall's taking his full attention. 

 

"C'mere, loser," Niall murmurs in his ear in a low voice that shudders down deep in him but it's still  _Niall_ , tugging on him until Harry moves closer. Niall guides one of his legs over him so that Harry straddles his lap now, hands smoothing down from waist to the tops of his thighs and back up again. Niall still has his boxers on, so it's not quite completely skin to skin, but it feels good enough to Harry as he leans down and kisses Niall, his hands clenched loosely as he rests his wrists on the top of the headboard. They neck for a minute; chasing each other's lips and laughing and bumping their noses together before he hears the snap of a plastic bottle top. 

 

"I'm warming it up between my fingers, because I care about your arsehole, cough Niall cough," she says pointedly from somewhere behind Harry, her breath brushing the little knobby bit at the top of his spine.

 

"That was seriously just one time," Niall starts to argue, and Harry's sure that he keeps talking, but it's harder to pay attention with two slick fingers trailing down his crease, Barbara huffing something that could be a laugh or just an exhalation against his shoulder, her right temple pressing against the top of his back.

 

"This isn't going to work very well if you're all-" Barbara rubs the pad of her middle finger over where Harry's all clenched, gentle and wet, and Harry holds his breath. She hums a little as she keeps rubbing against him, back and forth as Niall leans forward to plant kisses along Harry's collarbones. After a long moment, Harry feels Barbara smile against him, and she slowly starts to sink a finger inside of him, careful and slow.

 

"Getting all red," Niall murmurs from under Harry's chin, and kisses all along Harry's throat, soft and wet with a quick jolt of teeth every now and again as Barbara works him open. Harry's heart isn't sure if it wants to speed up or slow, he felt a little melty and loose limbed, sandwiched between two people so intent on him. Niall mouths out to the end of Harry's shoulder, and he sees Barbara lean up and nudge at Niall's face as she fingers him, and they kiss again, lightly like hello. Harry really does like watching them kiss. 

 

He must get lost in them, like he has already tonight out on the dance floor (which feels like an age ago), because Barbara's hand starts starts to move a little faster and his breath wheezes out of him. His knees must be spreading out, because he's settling down onto Niall's thighs, and Harry switches from holding himself up with the headboard to clutching at the back of Niall's head. Harry's fingers slip through his hair before he grips, fisting it hard enough to tug Niall's head back against the headboard. 

 

"You look so fuckin' gorgeous right now," Niall groans, holding on tight at Harry's waist, his gaze flickering between Harry, and Barbara over his shoulder. "You both do." His hands slide down Harry's body, palms fitting over his hips, the swell of his hipbones rising as Harry raises up and sinks down, mouth falling open.

 

"Another?" Barbara whispers into the side of his neck and Harry nods quick, swallowing hard and groaning out loud when she slides backwards for a moment to add more lube to her fingers before coming back. Harry feels like he can't stop making noise now, especially since his cock is hard enough again to press against Niall's thigh, leaving a wet trail of precome almost on the line of Niall's hipbone.

 

"Now, now, I want it- now," Harry manages to spit out finally, shuddering and arching when Barbara's fingers glance over the spot inside him that just about makes the pleasure too overwhelming. His body twists a little as she pulls her fingers free, lips kissing across the backs of his shoulders in silent apology.

 

 "Please," Harry adds, even though Niall's twisting his arm away to grab a condom from the side table. Tearing it open, Niall starts to roll it on, and both Harry and Barbara reach forward to help. Harry thinks absently that their fingers and hands look pretty great all tangled together.

 

"Here, here, sit up, raise up," Barbara encourages, her hands moving to the tops of Harry's hips as Harry moves forward, Niall groaning loudly under him when their cocks rub together for a moment on the way. Niall reaches down under him to wrap a hand around himself, and Harry's thighs tremble as he lines up, the head of Niall's dick catching against where he's open and wet. He hisses as he sits down on it, he feels like he could be ate up by the heat of it all; the burn of being stretched open multiplied by Niall and Barbara pinning him between them. 

 

"All good?" Niall asks, close to conversationally, like he doesn't sound just as wrecked as Harry feels. Harry nods, swallowing thickly, raising up and sinking down. The resulting noise is something Harry's not sure is coming from himself, or all three of them at once. He gains just a little speed as he repeats the motion a few more times, chewing his bottom lip as he watches Niall's face. 

 

"How does it feel?" Barbara asks in his ear, her lips in a grin because she already knows, just wants Harry to say it out loud. 

 

"Reallllly good. Really good," Harry says, unable to think of any more words, unable to find shame in how his words are slurred as he fucks himself on Niall's cock. Niall's the one getting all flushed now, his chest a little blotchy with the growing redness. Harry fits his hands there, balancing himself with the pads of his fingers pressing right above Niall's collarbones. 

 

Barbara slides her hands around, wraps them both around Harry's cock and squeezes before she starts to jack him off slowly. Niall looks up into his face with a gaping mouth and fever flushed cheeks, gaze swiveling back and forth between Harry and Barbara over Harry's shoulder. She's pressed tight to Harry's back, moving with him like she's fucking Niall too or directing him, and Harry shivers as he keeps pressing down with Niall shifting up against him. 

 

"Little faster," she murmurs, soft and hoarse, rising and falling with Harry, panting nearly as hard. "Come on, give, give it, harder." Harry groans, his thighs trembling, dizzy with effort. One of her hands leaves his cock, slides down and rubs at his rim where he's stretched around Niall. "Wish I hadn't forgotten my strap on, I'd love to see if you could take both of us at once-" Harry's back arches as he cries out, his head falling back against Barbara's shoulder while a wheezing whine squeezes out of his breathless chest. Barbara strokes him through it as he stripes his stomach, and Harry can hear Niall almost whimpering underneath him. 

 

Harry doesn't think he can lift himself up again, so he circles his hips in a slow grind, tight jawed little noises leaking out of him, he feels  _stretched_. Barbara's kissing along the top of his shoulder, watching as Niall comes apart, reaching to grip at Harry; at Barbara's thigh bordering Harry's, holding onto them both as he hunches in and comes. His face is almost intensely concentrated, pink and red flushed with creases between his eyebrows. 

 

"Beautiful," Harry croaks, rubbing his thumb in the dimple of his chin. 

 

"Yes," Barbara hums, and Harry can feel her smile again. He slides off of Niall to the right, disengaging slowly, one leg still curled over one of Niall's thighs. Niall carefully tugs off the condom, tying it and dropping it into the bin tucked under the other bedside table, sighing as he leans back. Barbara flops forward, one arm around Harry as she puts her cheek to Niall's chest, their legs all tangling together. It's nice, the press of all their bodies together, and Harry could more than get used to it. 

 

"Can get you off again?" Niall offers with a hopeful waggle of his eyebrows, even though his eyelids are drooping with sleep. 

 

Barbara makes a negative noise, shaking her head against his chest. "Mm, ten minutes ago, yes. Right now, sleep sounds better. Sleep, and then breakfast. One of you is making me eggs, even if I'm already sad Niall doesn't have any good spices in his kitchen."

 

"I have spices," Niall mumbles, forehead crinkling; and this sounds like a favorite argument to Harry. He always loves listening to people tread a pet argument, one that goes back and forth out of habit and fondness. 

 

"But you don't have paprika," she says, eyes closed.

 

"I  _have_  paprika," he groans, like he knows what's going to come out of her mouth next.

 

"But not real paprika," Barbara answers with a satisfied smile, as if that settles it. God, Harry loves it; he really likes them both. He can see good natured rows passed back and forth like a game of telephone, late mornings with big breakfast spreads, goofy snapchats back and forth from halfway across the world. Harry wants it so much he might be aching a little with it. 

 

They're quiet so long after that, Harry must fall asleep, because when he opens his eyes again he's alone in the bed, stretched out on his stomach with his face in the pillows. He's not as hungover as he expected to be; but then he'd been basically sober for a while before falling asleep. Frowning a little as he lies there, Harry thinks he can hear voices out beyond the open bedroom door. Getting up means leaving. Leaving means that it's all over. He hates this part.

 

Eventually he forces himself up, finding his pants and jeans at the foot of the bed and wandering out into the living room where he's pretty sure he left his shirt. 

 

"Styles!" crows Niall from the kitchen, and Harry walks up the short hall to where he and Barbara and sitting at the island attached to his oven and stove top. "What're you doing dressed? Breakfast is strictly clothes optional, and often frowned upon." 

 

"Thought I should..." Harry drifts off a little quietly, blinking and hooking a thumb over his shoulder toward the direction of the front door. Barbara snorts at him. 

 

"I'll be insulted if you don't stay to have some fruit salad, I badgered Niall into cutting most of it up while I supervised," she says, sipping at her coffee in an only slightly over sized v-neck shirt. "And preferably for some of the Breaking Bad this one-" Barbara points accusingly at Niall, who shrugs as he doles out food into bowls. "Insists on watching."

 

"Can't leave you alone with that," Harry says slowly, Niall and Barbara both shooting sunny grins at him as he comes and sits at next to Barbara. And he stays. 


End file.
